P s 

1514 

Da 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf ..-U_3__. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SUCCESS, 



AND OTHER POEMS 



JOHN A. DA VIES. 




CLEVELAND, O. : 
JOHN A. DAVIES, BOOK AND JOB 

31 Public Square. 






f-^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1881, 

By John A. Da. vies, 

^n the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



■"^tK*^ 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

SUCCESS, - - . _ . 5 

TO POESY, - - _ . _ - 6 

" GARFIELD, - - - _ . . 7 

" THE HEADACHE, - - _ _ g 

POLITICAL SOXGS. - - - . _ 9 

PARTED, ------ 13 

THE PILOT, - - _ _ _ _ 13 

A TALE, - - - _ - - 15 

A MOONLIGHT SAIL, - - - . _ 20 

THE WIFE, ... _ - - - 21 

TO A FRIEND, - . - _ - - 22 

RESIGNATION, ------ 24 

THE WRECK UF THE TRAIN, - - _ 25 

FRAGMENT, - - _ . . 



- 30 

MANY AND ONE, 31 

REFORM, 



34 

TRIED AND TRUE, - - - . _ 36 

FOLLY'S VICTIMS, - - _ _ . 37 

ACROSTICS, - . . . - - 38 

SONGS, - - . - . _ . 39 

ON A BUSYBODY, - - . .41 



PREFACE 



||N putting a book before the public, it is usual to 
% apologize for its appearance. This will not be 
done in this instance ; tor, whether this little book 
has merit or not, I am content to leave it with my 
friends, hoping they may find as much pleasure in 
reading as I have found in writing it. 

Cleveland, 0., July, 1881. 



cK'>/(9o<^8^^\S)o 



SUCCESS. 



WENT fishing o'er a gate, 
With but true love for a bait; 
And I tried to catch a mate 

By my art ! 
But another standing by, 
Had for bait a golden fly, 
And its sparkle caught her eye. 

And her heart. 

I essayed to sing a song; 

It was pretty, though not long; 

Yet I could not rise among 

The elite. 
But a neighbor with a mine, 
Such rich verses could entwine, 
They appeared almost divine, 

Oh, so sweet ! 



TO POESY. 



So my friend, if you would rise 
(xreat in name, or grasp a prize, 
Tiiis advice pray scrutinize 

('Tis between us) : 
First get rich, and then you may 
Tell your love, or sing, or play, 
And you'll hear the people say, 

" What a genius ! " 



TO POESY. 



'WEET poesy! to thee I sing to-day, 
5 Accept this loyal, though but simple lay ; 
Though no heroic pinions bear me up. 
Though I among the lowly warblers sup, 
Still aid me, that my song, though low be sweet. 
Its accents tender, and its measure meet. 

Let others woo thee in such hifty form, 
That rhyme and rensou perish in the storm. 
Content I'll seek thee in the shndydell. 
And list enchanted 'neath thy magic spell; 
Pi-rchanoe 'o catch from thee some sweet refrain, 
Of joyous measure and harmonious strain. 



GARFIELD. 



GARFIELD 



fAIL, Garfield! Hail! Ever in freedom's van, 
^. We hail America's true nobleman. 

'I'i, 

Not such as other climes the title own : 
A titled lackey waiting near a throne ; 
But gifted by thy Maker with a heart, 
That throbs responsive to the noble part. 



Chide not thy Maker, that He did not spare 
To thy young life a tender father's care ; 
For He who took him from thee well would know, 
That sturdy plants, by storms, yet sturdier grow, 
So early trials passing o'er thy breast, 
Enobled, strengthened, purified and blest. 

When treason reared its impious form, 
And strove to ])oison freedom's life, 
E'en there amid that fearful storm, 
We saw thee foremost in the strife. 
In war, in peace, still in the van, 
For freedom. Hero, Nobleman ! 



TO THE HEADACHE. 



And when in later years it came, 

In comlier garb and changed in name, 

Thou wast the first who dared to throw 

The gauntlet at the traitor foe. 

Again we saw in freedom's van, 

Our Statesman, Hero, Nobleman. 

And now Ohio, with united voice, 
'Mong all her sons still claims thee as her choice. 
To fill the highest place she can bestow. 
And, knowing, she can trust, and bid thee go — 
Go do thy duty there, as thou hast done. 
And she may never blush to call thee son. 
Clevkland, Jany. 22, 1880. 



TO THE HEADACHE. 



tHOU fiend ! art thou returned again 
To rack and burn my weary brain? 
Avaunt ! or I shall go profane 

(to bed.) 
I dare not rave and pull my hair. 
Like others writhing in despair. 
I would I had it plugged, 1 swear, 
(with lead.) 



POLITICAL 



PO LITICA L 



C K O N 1 N . 



^IR Samuel saw in liis reck'ning a flaw, 

^ As he moodily sat in the gloaming. 

Said he, " I must find one who money will bind ;" 
"Oh, faith, I'm yer man, then," said Cronin. 

Said Sam, " You must swear the election unfair 
And send Watts, the postmaster, roaming." 
Said Pat, " Faith, I will ; just hand me your till, 
And I'm yours most obedient," said Cronin. 

Said Sam, " If you find the others won't mind. 
But over their rights commence groaning" — 
"Just lave that to me; I'm equal to three; 
I'll go it alone, then." said Cronin. 

The plan worked all right, till brought to the sight 
Of some who for fraud were exploring. 
And then what a rout, while Sammy, cried out, 
" May the de'il fly away with you, Cronin ! " 
Cleveland, Feb., 1877. 



10 KALI^Y OF 1880. 



RALLY OF 1880. 



Air— WACHT am Rhine. 



ft 

ffOME all who love our native land, 

•^ CoQie to the front, and nobly stand 

For right, for right, tor truth and right, 

God will protect the truth and right. 

Chorus — Come rally round our standard here. 

For Garfield, and for Arthur cheer ; 

With them to guide our bark, 

We need not fear. 

Come from the pine-clad hills of Maine ; 
From California's verdant plain; 
In might, in might, in freedom's might, 
Come forth in freedom's royal might. 

Chorus — To rally, etc. 

Come from th- farthest lake bound coast. 
And with the south a mighty host. 
Unite, unite, in love unite. 
As brother- meet, and then unite. 

Chorus — To rally, etc. 



GARFIELD, 1880. 11 

GARFIELD, 1880. 

fOME join in a song to a man of true worth ; 
No riches he boasts, and though humble his birth, 
'Tis one whose pure manhood enobles the earth : 
'Tis Garheld, our leader we sing. 

In boyhood though poor, he was earnest and .strong, 
He did his whole duty with laughter and song. 
And kept the quaint mule slowly jogging along — 
A leader of teamsters was he. 

The war-cloud o'erspread our fair land with its gloom ; 
Our bravest and best were consigned to the tomb ; 
Still there to the front of the fight was his plume, 
A leader of heroes was he. 

Bright peace had returned to our nation once more ; 
They tried but in vain treason foul to restore ; 
He soon saw their game, and forbid them to score ; 
A leader of Statesmen was he. 

vSo hail him with joy, us our leader to-day. 
We fear not the foe we may meet in the way. 
We'll fight for the right, and all natious shall say, 
A leader of rulers is he. 

Hail, hail, our nation's pride w.e hail ! 

In Garfield's name, we victory claim, 

'Tis Garfield's name Ave sing. 



12 PARTED. 



PARTED. 



§ND must we part? We who have vowed so oft, 
Till death should part us naught could intervene : 
When at the even-tide with accents soft, 
You'd whisper words of love, or trusting lean 
Upon this arm, while the fair moon aloft 
Shed her pale beams, down through the maple's screen- 
Oh, then, I thought our loves, our lives, were one. 
And we should journey thus till life were done. 

And you did vow that then a day would seem 
An age unless some part were spent with you. 
Was then your faith so weak that you could deem 
I was unworthy in a month, or two? 
Or was your love for me naught but a dream. 
From which a slander could awaken you ? 

A thousand slanders could not thus divide 
My love and you, so you were true, my bride. 

I thought a wife's fond love the strongest link, 
That e'er could bind us mortals here below. 
Had you that love, would you this trial shriuk. 
And leave me quite alone to bear the blow ? 
Were you thus hard beset, though on the brink 
Of shame and infamy, I'd face the foe. 



T H p: P I L O T . 13 

And faithful stand, between you and the strife, 
Ay leave all else on earth for you, my wife. 



THE PILOT. 



ETHOUGHT, in a frail boat, alone 
, I rode upon a stormy sea ; 

The winds swept o'er with angry moan 
The waves, that answered sullenly. 

In vain I strove my bark to guide, 
And tend my wildly-flying sail, 

As wilder tossed the heaving tide, 
And fiercer blew the shrieking gale. 

The lightnings from His mighty throne, 
In an incessant shower He drove ; 

While the mad winds and waves did groan. 
Beneath the awful voice of Jove. 

At length a wilder, fiercer 'ilast 
That tore away my sail from me, 

Swept with terrific vigor past, 
And left me drifting helplessly. 



14 THEPTLOT. 



(A moment's time it seemed like years) — 

I cried aloud in agony, 
" Help ! Help ! I sink !" when, through my tears, 

I saw a light close on my lee. 

A cheering voice cried, " Boat ahoy ! 

Dost need a pilot through the gale? " 
" Ay, ay," I cried, and saw with joy 

One spring on board and catch my sail. 

He took the helm, bade me obey 
All He should bid me do, and live ; 

And soon beneath His matchless sway, 
My bark sped gently o'er the wave. 

With choking voice I thanked Him, then, 
Told Him I had naught else to give ; 

He said, " I am the Friend of men. 
And all who call on Me shall live." 

I prayed Him, then, He'd give to me 
His name, from where, and why He came ? 

"I came from Heaven to succor thee ; 
And Cheist the Pilot is My name." 

Cleveland, Nov. 25, 1879. 



A TALE 



A TALE. 



I. 
i LATELY heard a tale of rural life 
I That pleased, yet saddened, with its simple strain. 

'Twas no heroic scene of hate or strife. 

Nor high-wrought fancy of a poet's brain ; 

But life as seen and felt by him whose lot 

Is cast in cabin home or lowly cot. 

ir. 

Thus runs the tale: A peasant, wife and son, 

Lived on a mountain side in Italy. 

They tilled the little farm they dwelt upon. 

Which well repaid their care. 'Twas prettily 

Laid out in vineyard, field and grove. 

Where grapes and cereals and the olive throve. 

III. 

No idle life was theirs. Their days were spent 
Tending the olive grove or fruitful vine. 
Their daily toil a sweeter pleasure lent 
To the calm hour of rest at day's decline. 
Blest twilight hour ! And blest abode of love ! 
Fit emblem of that home of rest above ! 



15 



16 A TALE. 

IV. 

I love the twilight hour, so calm and still, 
The silvery moon that o'er yon hill-top peers, 
The gentle murmur of the rippling rill. 
The brightening sparkle of the heavenly spheres. 
Blest twilight hour ! Oh ! may my life's decline 
Steal o'er my senses, calm, serene, as thine ! 

V. 

1 love the twilight hour, a hallowed spell 
Descends upon our senses like the dew, 
Kefreshing, soft. Anon, the vesper bell 
Makes heaven appear but just beyond our view. 
Otir hearts respond to Nature's soothing power 
In praise to God for this, the twilight hour. 

VI. 

And thus they lived for years in sweet content. 

At peace with God, themselves and with the world. 

Each season's verdure a new beauty lent 

To their loved home. The little stream that purled 

Adown the mountain side so bright and clear, 

Appeared more beauteous each ensuing year. 

VII. 

Their son, now grown to manhood, was their pride. 
They lived but in his smile, as he in theirs. 



A TALE. 17 



He seemed content forever to abide 
With them, and share alike their joys and cares. 
Oh blessed home ! Oh love almost divine ! 
How sweet, yet potent, is that wand of thine ! 

VIII. 

Yet storms will break e'en 'neath Italia's skies, 

When mountain streams to torrents shall have passed 

And the fair spot, alike to Paradise, 

Become dismantled 'neath the furious blast. 

So 'tis within our hearts : too oft we see 

A wreck of passion where fair peace should be. 

IX. 

At length, the cloud of war o'erspread the land, 
And dimmed awhile the bright, fair orb of peace. 
To be dispelled again by freedom's hand. 
When cant and bigotry alike shall cease, 
And out the gloom of superstition's night 
A nation shall arise in freedom's light. 

X. 

Up to their quiet home the call had come, 
And sire and son had hastened to obey ; 
Cast one fond look on mother, wife and home. 
Then joined the ranks of freedom in the fray. 
While in that lowly home, 'mid fear and dread, 
A watcher waits the living, or the dead. 



18 A TALE. 

XI. 

And thus she watched and labored, hoped and feared, 
For tidings from her loved ones ; but none came. 
The days wore slowly on, and weeks appeared ; 
The weeks rolled into months ; 'twas still the same. 
Ah ! who but those who've felt can know the pain 
Of those who patient wait, yet wait in vain ? 

XII. 

At length the news was brought her that her son, 
Though wounded sore, was on his homeward way ; 
That freedom's cause a victory had won ; 
A husband's life the price that she must pay. 
Oh, Freedom ! priceless boon ! But oh, the care 
And sorrow, pain and tears, thy martyrs share! 

XIII. 

They broug^'t him home again, her boy, her pride. 
Alas, the fitful gleam that hope had fed 
Brightened awhile, when by his ni'ith^r's side; 
Grew dim; then bright; and then forever fled. 
They buried him at twilight, and the rill 
Chants his low requiem down his native hilL 

XIV. 

And now, a childless widow only waits. 
Beside a greencapped mound on yonder hill. 



A TALE. 19 

Her summons. A.nd beside the pearly gates 
The dear ones gone before are waiting, till 
The loved oil earth shall meet, no more to roam, 
But live forever in that perfect home. 
Cleveland, Jiilv 14, 1880. 



2~<S 



20 A MOONTJGHT SAIL. 



A MOONLIGHT SAIL. 



fHAT though others sing of the mighty main 
Of the crested waves and their wild refrain ? 
Yet, my love and F, will all else forsake, 
For a moonlight sail e'er the silvery lake. 

Chorus : — 

For no oar we need, but the snowy sail 
Seems to woo the breath of the gentle gale. 
As my love and I, sweetest secrets tell, 
While we smoothly glide in the Fairy Belle. 

In the distant west is a golden gleam, 
Yet not half so bright as our futures seem. 
And the bright full moon floods the lake with light. 
As our hearts are filled with true love to-night. 

E'en the wavelets pause as we pass them by, 
To reflect the flash of her love -lit eye ; 
While the finny tribe 'round our vessel throng, 
Fain to catch the tones of lier sweet love song. 

All our cares are left on the distant shore, 
For we knew no tale but of love's sAveet lore, 
"While no rude alarm breaks this hour of bliss. 
We \{\l\ ask no joy more complete than this. 



T H E W I F E . 21 



• THE WIFE. 

MUSBANDS, I ask your attention. 

l<^ Listen to what I may say ; 

One simple truth I would mention- 
Wives are ill-treated to-day. 
Working by day without ceasing, 
Lonely too often at night, 
Yearly her cares are increasing ; 
Husbands, are you in the right ? 

Cooking, and washing the dishes, 
Sweeping, or making the bed. 
Tending the baby, who wishes 
All of the time to be fed. 
Washing the older ones' faces, 
Hustling them off to the school. 
Think not the mothers have places 
Where they in comfort may rule. 

Washing, or baking, or mending, 
No quiet resting at night, 
Husbands or children attending, 
Think you their duties are light? 



22 TOATRIEND. 

Cherish her, then, and protect her, 
Help her whenever j^ou can. 
None but a brute would neglect her 
Act, then, the part of a man. 
Cleveland, August, 1880. 



TO A FRIEND. 



JEAR friend, you ask me to indite 
I To you a line or two ; 
I will, to bring to others' sight 
The traits I like in you. 

I like a man who does right well 
Whate'er he finds to do ; 

Who always strives the truth to tell 
And these I find in you. 

I like the sympathetic heart 

For others' failings, too. 
With hand as ready as his heart — 

And these I find in you. 



TOAFRIEND. 23 



I like a fond parental care, 

A husband wh© is true, 
Who loves his home, is happy there — 

And these I find in you. 

A well-spent life, a loving wife. 

Your children fair to view ; 
With health and wealth, but naught of strife. 

For these I'll pray for you. 



G<?> 



24 RESIGNATION 



RESIGNATION. 



She sat like one entranced, as her fingers swept the 
w keys, 

All unconscious of the weird impassioned strain ; 
But the song of prayer she uttered seemed to give her 

spirit ease — 
As it ended in a low, yet sweet refrain. 

Refrain : — 

Though while here below we may sorrow know, 
And e'en life seem a load to bear, 
Yet our tears and sighs will not reach the skies ; 
We shall sing when we all meet there. 

Her pallid cheek grew bright with the flush of christian 

hope, 
And the tears had cleansed her eyes of earthly care, 
While her fair and fragile form had regained the 

strength to cope 
With and conquer all her enemies — by prayer. 

She passed away from earth like the music of her song, 
But her cheering words of hope they still remain ; 
May we learn like her, while here, thus to suffer and be 

strong, 
And like her, at last, a home of rest to gain. 



T H E \\' R E C K O F T H E T R A I N . 25 



TH^ WRECK OF THE TRAIN. 



' |J|1D snowing and blowing, 
^A With furnaces glowing, 

Its fiery path sowing, 

And fire in its breath . 

With noise and commotion, 

Like boisterous ocean. 

With swift locomotion, 

It goes to its death. 

n. 

Through towm and through village, 
And snow covered tillage. 
Or where the waves pillage 
The sands from the beach. 
O'er valleys 'tis bounding, 
Or hill sides half rounding. 
While all are resounding 
Its roar and its screech. 

III. 
Still onward 'tis dashing, 
With window lights flashing. 



26 THE WRECK OF THE TRAIN 

Doors slamming and clashing, 
And rattling of pane. 
Inside are all races, 
Old age and young faces, 
A world in small space, is 
A passenger train. 

IV. 

All trades and professions, 
Some great in possessions, 
And some whose accessions 
Of wealth have been small. 
The rich by extortion. 
The poor through misfortune, 
Who sadly importune. 
Oh, list to their call. 

V. 

Its beacon light flushes. 
As onward it rushes; 
The wind in swift gushes 
The smoke sweeps away. 
Still onward 'tis hieing, 
On, on, almost flying; 
The storm even vying, 
Or lightning's swift play. 



THE W R E C; K OF THE TRAIN. 27 



VI. 
Still steadily striding 
Through gorges, or gliding 
Through tunnels, half hiding 
Its form from the night. 
Still onward, keep going, 
Though densely 'tis snowing, 
Its motion is slowing — 
A bridge is in sight. 

VII. 
Of iron the bridge is 
Wide spanning high ridges ; 
The scene o'er its edge is 
Quite fearful to view. 
But look ! see it shaking, 
The whole structure quaking, 
O, God ! is it breaking ? 
Alas ! 'tis too true. 

vrii. 
Down tumbling and dashing, 
'Mid rumbling and crashing. 
Careening and splashing, 
Down into the stream. 
There wounded and bleeding. 
With life fast receeding 



28 THE WRECK OF THE TRAIN 

Or drowning, none heeding 
Their piteous scream. 

IX. 

Alas ! how disaster 
Swift follows disaster. 
Now, fire, the dread master 
Fiend reaches the goal ; 
At first, scarcely peeping, 
Then stealthily creeping, 
It soon high o'er-leaping, 
Envelopes the whole. 



X. 

Should sickness o'ertake us, 
Our strength e'er forsake us. 
And suffering make us. 
But long to go home, 
Kind friends o'er us weeping, 
Their sad vigil keeping, 
E'en then our last sleeping, 
With anguish would come. 

XI. 

Now, look with eyes tearful, 
On this scene more fearful, 



THE WRECK OF THE TRAIN. 29 



On these who so cheerful 
While journeying home. 
As plunged to the gulf there, 
All mangled with wounds bare, 
Or scorched by the fire's glare, 
They pray death to come. 

Some 'neath timbers lying, 
To 'scape vainly trying. 
By fire slowly dying, 
A terrible doom. 
Some plunged in the river. 
To flounder and shiver, 
Till soon, with a quiver. 
They sink in the gloom. 



^^^<m^ci^^. 



30 FRAGMENT. 



t 



FRAGMENT. 



HO has not felt at times a vague alarm, 
A strange unnarneable dread appear ? 
Keason can give no clue to any harm, 
And yet there is a feeling kin to fear-r 
Whose presence at onr fireside makes it drear. 

The nerve is to its utmost tension strung, 
And every little accident annoys. 
Hope seems to fail us, and the silent tongue 
Longs to express the presence of alloys. 
We find so intermixed with all our joys. 

At times like these we feel how weak we are- 
How less than weakness our proud strength 

appears, 
And how dependant we upon His care, 
Who only can allay our brooding fears, 
Our spirits strengthen, and dry up our tears. 



M A N Y A N D O N E . 31 



. MANY A NB ONE. 



'HEX our forefathers dared the wave, 
^ To seek a home in distant land, 
They fled their heaven-born rights to save, 
A-nd this their motto ruled the band, 
That nowhere 'neath the glorious sun, 
The many should be ruled by one. 

And when again in later years. 
Our starry banner was unfurled. 
Our fathers, with their blood and tears. 
Proclaimed this motto to the world : 
That nowhere 'neath our glorious sun. 
The many should bo ruled by one. 

And when Secession strove to bind 
Her chains about her fellow-men, 
The North arose, all one in mind. 
And taught the South this motto then, 
That nowhere 'neath this glorious sun, 
The many should be ruled by one. 

Shall we, who now its blessings know, 
Surrender Avhat our fathers gave. 



32 M A N Y A N D N E . "^ 

To pander to a thankies?* foe, 
Or some conceited friend to save?* 
No ! nowhere 'neath this glorious sun, 
The many shall be ruled by one. 

We know no prince or noble here, 
Though Grant or Conkling, Logan, Don 
And they shall know and likewise fear, 
The motto that we build upon : 
That nowhere 'neath this glorious sun. 
The many shall be ruled by one. 

Where 'er or when he may arise, 
Who would enthral his fellow-man? 
Strike, strike ! the serpent till he dies. 
E'en though he be American. 
For nowhere, 'neath our glorious sun, 
The many shall be ruled by one. 
Cleveland, JuIv 1, 1881. 



N WORK. 34 



yo WOBK. 



wO work ! No work ! No work ! 
^ While my children are crying for bread. 
No work ! No work ! No work ! 
'Till I almost could wish I were dead. 

For the heart must feel, and the eye will dim, 
Though our pride conceal it, from all but Him. 

I have sought it from morn until eve, 

'Mid the wind and the rain, and the snow, 

I have offered to work like a slave — 

Though the wages be ever so low. 

But 'tis vain to seek, and in vain to try, 
" We have all we need," is the sharp reply. 

(xive us work ! (live us Work I Give us work I 

P^or we ask not. we want not your aid ; 

In idleness we would not lurk. 

But would honestly work and be paid. 

Though you may not thus increase your store, 
For humanity's sake give us work once more. 

Cleveland, December, 1876. 



34 REFORM 



I 



REFORM. 



N all political campaigns, 

Some motto now is needed, 
By which the party, power attains, 

That done, it is unheeded. 
They merely use it for a bait. 

To catch some office of the State. 

Perhaps "No Tariff," is the cry, 

Or debts, repudiation — 
And some will Anti-Liquor try, 

Still others Education. 
But should they wish to raise a storm, 

The magic watch-word is Reform. 

The Presidential nominee 

Will cry, " Reduce the taxes." 

But just reduce his salary. 

And see how Avroth )ie w;ixes. 

''Reform," h'' cries. " was never meant 
By rne, to reach the President." 

The candidate for Congress shouts 
Reform niiiil election, 



REFORM, 35 



Then takes a pass on all the routes 

Of travel in his section. 
Bulf take away his mileage, friend, 

And see how soon reform will end. 

The Governor will own its charm, 

And all the Legislature, 
Our Mayor, too, can see no harm 

In this, new freak of nature. 
Keform will suit them all quite well, 

Provided, 'tis not personal. 

Reform is good, looks well in print. 
Sounds well in public speeches. 

But where is one will take the hint 
To practice what he preaches? 

Let words, not actions, be exotic, 
Reform will then be patriotic. 



|)(e)_^V^ 



36 TRIEDANDTRUE. 

TRIED AND TR UE. 

tIS sweet to meet a friend indeed. 
Though lowly be his birth, 
And he who finds a friend in need 
Can boast the best of earth. 
Then friends come join our sucial throng, 
And e'er we say adieu, 
We'll sing again the cheering song 
To friendship tried and true. 

Though many friends may claim a part 

When fortune's skies are bright, 

'Tis only those who give the heart, 

Will go through sorrow's night. 

Then cherish those who hearts will bring, 

Though precious they are few, 

To join with us and with us sing 

Of friendship tried and true ! 

When earthly cares shall 'round us twine, 

Or sickness lay us low. 

Yet drawing strength from friendship's mine, 

We'll cahiily mev:'t the foe. 

And when at h)st we yield to death, 

When earth shall claim its due. 

We'll whisper with our latest breath 

Of friendship tried and true. 



folly's VICTIMS. 37 



'FOLLY' i^ VICTIMS. 



fAME Folly, while walking one fine summer day, 
A number of urchins discovered at play ; 
All seemed to enjoy the wild fun, except two, 
And they were both looking exceedingly blue. 
The Dame asked the reason why they were so sad, 
While the others appeared to be equally glad ? 
" They want to play circus, and we want a kite," 
The larger boy said, " And I don't think it right. 
And if they won't play what I want them to do, 
I'll leave." Said the smallest boy, " I will leave, too." 

"Come with me," said the Dame, '' to my home on the 

Isle, 
And there you shall dress in such excellent style 
That when you return, all your playmates will sing : 
' Oh, isn't he gorgeous, let's make him our King 1'" 
This suited his fancy ; he followed the Dame, 
Thus hoping to aid his apppearance and name. 
While near him, the other boy, loyal and true, 
Ean crying : "If you go, why, I will go, too." 



38 ANACE08TIC, 



Arrived at the island, Dame Folly began 
To make each young urchin look less like .a man. 
But failing in this she endeavored with paints, 
To make them young heroes, or martys, or saints. 
This effort, too, failing, she took up her tools. 
And finally finished by making them fools. 



AN ACROSTIC. 

ERAPHIC slimnesH ! Sara, say, 
' Art thou a niaid or matron, pray ? 

Rather the both, so I am told. 

Alas ! that such should e'er groM^ old ! 

AN ACROSTIC. 

i||OLD and gloomy shadows flit 

M ^'er this king-like face ; 
No affection here may sit — 
Kindness none can trace. 
Love of self and love of power, 
Interchanging hour by hour, 
Nothing save conceit and pride 
Governs here, or can abide. 



myboyhood'ssled. 39 



MY BOYHOOD'S SLED. 



|| FOUND to-day, safe stowed away, 
« 'Mid rubbish in a shed, 

That which had been a joy serene — 

It was my boyhood's sled. 

Its make was quaini, it had no paint, 
Or gilt, or carpet bed, 
But none could boast a swifter coast, 
Than I upon my sled. 

No ball, or kite, no race, or tight, 
Pet bird or quadruped, 
So warm a part held in my heart 
As this my boyhood's sled. 

I sadly trace a rogueish face, 
Now numbered with the dead. 
That by my side was wont to ride 
Upon this, dear old sled. 

Cleveland, August, 1880. 



